


Initiation

by FrozenInSpace



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos is a big softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional bonding, Gen, Shipping If You Squint, drunk!d'Artagnan, mentions of d'Artagnan/Constance, tag to 1x08, they're all brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenInSpace/pseuds/FrozenInSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of 1x08, d'Artagnan gets very, very drunk and sad, leading to Athos comforting him. Could be seen as D'Artagnan/Athos if you squint, and OT4 if you squint harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> Saw something on tumblr by user raouldehadleyfraser and it put this into my head. 
> 
> But this is probably a bit nicer than the last fic I wrote....poor characters, why do I torture them so?

Amazingly, d'Artagnan was still standing up straight. 

He'd had a fair few (for him anyway; the others had drunk double and were absolutely fine), and considering the events of the last week, it wasn't a surprise he'd gone.....a little bit beyond his limits.   
The only thing keeping him grounded was the new weight of his pauldron lying on his right shoulder. 

His pauldron. 

He couldn't believe it. He'd actually won. Defeated Labarge, and gained commission from the king. But at the same time he was crying for the fact that his father couldn't see him. 

And because of Constance. 

Even the thought of her brought a pang to his chest- it felt like someone had skewered him with a main-gauche that had been newly forged, sharp and still burning. It churned his stomach and caused his breath to sob, his hands shaking as he pushed himself off the table and out into the streets of Paris. He had no plan for his stroll, planning purely to wander aimlessly through les rues until he fell down, either from exhaustion or drunkenness, he didn't care which. 

It was as he walked- well stumbled off- that the three older musketeers began to confer. 

'I don't like it. He's really unhappy, even though he's just been made one of us officially.' Porthos was nearing the edge of drunkenness, his words becoming blunter. 

'Ah, but it is the love of a woman that hurts him so- surely you have noticed the fact that he's been spending a lot more time than usual at Bonacieux's?' Aramis, ever the hopeless romantic, was also concerned, enough to notice that what was happening wasn't good. 

'One of us should go after him and keep an eye out. Make sure he doesn't get attacked on his first night.' Athos looked around at his friends, who raised their eyebrows at him. 'I take it that it's going to be me then.'  
'Well, you are his favourite.' Aramis clapped him on the back as he got up, before he left in search of d'Artagnan. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Half an hour later found Athos without a clue where the boy had gone- he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. D'Artagnan didn't know Paris overly well, but he wasn't in any of his usual haunts- the garrison, the other taverns, not even the whorehouses, which Athos had checked as a last resort; usually that was reserved for Aramis. 

It wasn't until he began his way back to his quarters that he realised that there was one place he'd forgotten. 

It took Athos all of fifteen minutes to get back to his quarters, where he found an extremely soused Gascon lying on the stone floor, crying. When he noticed Athos, he blanched and went to move, but his legs gave under him and he ended up in a mass of limbs and hair on the floor. Rather than trouble the boy, Athos sat down next to him and looked at him. 

'Normally this is my way to end an evening. So why are you here crying on my doorstep? Surely you should be celebrating the fact that you're officially one of us.' Oh how Athos felt pride at hearing that out loud- this boy was his responsibility and now he'd come far enough to count among their ranks. 

''S not important. Lemme alone.' Ah, the stubborn drunk. 

'Well obviously it's important if you felt the need to stumble off into Paris....on your own, might I add.'

'It's been a bad week is all I can say.' The words were slurred, but Athos could just make them out. And Athos knew all about bad weeks. He had 50 of them a year. 

'Talk to me.'

'Why do you care?'

'Because I am your friend and after training you for this contest I feel greatly responsible for you, messieur stubborn as a mule.'

'I....I don't know where to start.' This was slightly clearer. 

'At the beginning.'

'Constance and I.....we.....' The boy blushed. Oh. 

'You became lovers.' This was not surprising, and nor was it a question. 

'It was just one night. But I told her I loved her, and I do, Athos, I do- I don't think I've ever loved someone as I do her, and nor could I again.' With this, the sobs returned, leaving the young man sobbing into his knees. Athos rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. 'And then today she told me she could never love me, that what we were doing was wrong and that I was never an option for her. How could she say that, Athos? How?!' How indeed, thought Athos. There was something more to that- he's sensed the attraction immediately, at the same time as Aramis, who had made a bet with Porthos as to when they would end up in bed together. 

'It's not your fault, lad. She's a married woman, and yes, she may wish to remain faithful to her vows, but it is not your fault for falling in love with someone. It is never your fault.' 

'Then why do you torture yourself for falling in love with your criminal ex-wife?' Athos froze. 

'Because she killed people. Constance has not.'

'I wish she had killed me- I can't handle feeling like this, Athos. I want to die.'

'That's just the drink talking, and a broken heart. I've had my own nights of that. Now let's get you inside- you're too drunk to go anywhere else for tonight so you'll have to stay with me.'

D'Artagnan let Athos carry him into his room, barely noticing the simplicity of it all; there were no personal effects, purely functional. However, he did have a nice looking chaise in the corner, which seemed to be where he was being guided. 

'Th-thank you, Athos. I really should aspire to be more like you.'

'I am a drunkard and a generally unpleasant person at most hours of the day. Never become like me. Ever.' The words were bitter. 

'But you are kind hearted, and humorous at times, and you have a heart. You are loyal and the perfect soldier. I would give my right arm to be just a little more like you.'

'You are like me, which is where the problem lies. I too was tempestuous and troublesome, never scared of anything. But that changed, because I fell in love. Do not make the same mistake I did, d'Artagnan. Trust is hard to come by, but God knows I trust you.' And with that, d'Artagnan landed in the chair, while Athos trunched over to his own bed, pulling of his leathers and boots before settling down. He could hear the soft breathing from d'Artagnan, showing that the boy was asleep, and Athos too settled down, knowing that the night was nearing its end. 

xxxxxxxxx

It was the next morning, and d'Artagnan woke with a groan, his head pounding as he took in the unfamiliar scenery. He remembered the night before, and groaned more, mainly due to the things he had said. What would they think of him now?  
It was then than he noticed three men staring at him, smirks written into their faces. Athos' seemed the least genuine, and he could see the concern clearly, but it was there for all of them. 

'Ah, the first morning after headache. Now you're officially a soldier.' Porthos grinned, and d'Artagnan couldn't help but grin back. Then their faces fell into a more serious expression, eerily similar. 'But first, the Constance situation.'

Oh, merde. 

'Now look, we can't have you moping over this. You're a Musketeer. Besides, that spot is already taken.' All eyes slid to Athos, who glared back. 'But yes, we understand- your first heartbreak is always the worst.'

'But, d'Artagnan, remember, if anything is bothering you, you talk to us. We're brothers now, have been pretty much since you managed to worm your way into our little trio. So keep your chin up, okay?' The boy nodded at Aramis' words. 'Good, now get dressed. We have a lot of things to do today, including getting you your hat.'

They all groaned. Aramis was obsessed with hats- he had about three at home that they knew of. But it was that groan that made d'Artagnan smile just a little bit more.

They stood up, and Aramis and Porthos clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair, as he'd often seen them do to each other. 

And Athos hung back as the other walked out, leaning into give the boy a hug, which he hadn't done beforehand. D'Artagnan took advantage of the situation, and said, 'don't shut yourself off from us either, Athos. We're all brothers now.'

And with that, the new Musketeer walked out, his mentor following close behind him. 


End file.
